Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 48: Chapter 48

The Arena of Stormfang had not seen a Trial in decades.
Carved into the cliffside and surrounded by jagged stone peaks, it was sacred ground—a place where ancient blood was shed to prove worth and legacy. The crowd sat in tiered silence, tension like a blade across every throat.
Seraphina stood alone on the obsidian sand, stripped of armor, clothed in light leathers. Her Crescent Blade glinted across her back. Her Hollow mark pulsed faintly beneath the glove on her left hand.
At the opposite end of the arena stood the beast she was to face.
Not a wolf.
Not even a rogue.
A creature born of twisted alchemy and Hollow flame.
Part direwolf, part shadow beast, its form leaked mist and hate. Its claws shimmered with moonstone and black iron. A cruel trick—designed to pierce the soul of a reincarnated Luna.
Mira, watching from the viewing terrace, hissed. “That isn’t a beast. That’s a trap.”
Darian, fists clenched beside her, growled, “Alaric.”
The Trial Commences
The Trial Master raised his staff.
“By decree of Moon and Flame, the Rite of Strength begins!”
The runes across the arena ignited, locking Seraphina and the beast within.
No aid. No interference. Just battle.
The creature wasted no time.
It launched at her with a roar that shook the mountains.
Seraphina rolled to the side, drawing her blade mid-motion. Flame sparked along its edge. She slashed upward, striking its side. The beast howled but barely faltered. Its hide absorbed pain like a sponge to blood.
She backed away, scanning it.
Every breath it took seemed to stir the Hollow mark on her palm. As if it recognized her.
“This isn’t just a trial,” she muttered. “It’s a message.”
The beast charged again.
The Sabotage
In the observation chamber above, Alaric leaned against a pillar, watching her movements.
“She’s quick,” murmured the shadowy advisor beside him.
“She won’t be quick enough,” Alaric replied.
The advisor held out a rune-stone etched with dark glyphs. “If you activate this, the creature will target the Hollow mark. It will drive straight for her soul.”
Alaric hesitated… then placed his palm on the stone.
Below, the creature stopped mid-strike—then turned, eyes burning brighter.
It roared—and charged faster than before.
Seraphina gasped, barely parrying. The blade sparked on contact. Her knees buckled under the sheer weight of it.
Then—sharp pain.
The beast’s claws grazed her left arm—slicing the glove, exposing the crescent mark.
The crowd gasped.
Darian stood instantly. “No,” he growled. “He knows. He’s targeting the mark!”
Mira grabbed his arm. “If you interfere—she loses the Rite.”
“She’ll die first!”
But Elric’s voice came cold and clear. “She knew this would happen. This is her battle. Let her fight.”
Darian’s jaw clenched—but he stayed frozen.
Watching.
Praying.
Seraphina Unleashed
Seraphina dropped to one knee, blood dripping from her arm.
The Hollow mark glowed—brighter now. Silver fire rippling outward.
The beast hissed, circling.
“You feel it, don’t you?” she whispered. “You were made to kill me. But I wasn’t made to die.”
She rose.
Slowly.
Power rolled off her like thunder.
Flames burst from her blade—not red, but white.
The void and moonlight mingled.
“Let’s dance,” she whispered.
She met the beast head-on, slashing across its chest. Sparks flew. It snapped at her face—she ducked, stabbing up into its jaw.
It screamed.
Then it spoke.
In a voice layered and hollow: You are not pure.
Seraphina snarled, “Neither was the world that broke me.”
She vaulted over its back, landing behind it. Her blade ignited fully now—charged with rage, with purpose.
She drove it into the beast’s spine.
Fire exploded outward in a shockwave.
The beast writhed.
Screamed.
And crumbled into ash.
Victory Claimed
The arena was silent.
Then—
Roars erupted from the crowd.
Wolves howled.
Even those unsure of her claim rose in stunned applause.
The Trial Master stepped forward, eyes wide. “Luna Seraphina has completed the Rite of Strength.”
Seraphina turned, blood running down her side, eyes blazing.
Her gaze found Alaric.
He smiled.
But it didn’t reach his eyes.
The Aftermath
That evening, Seraphina sat in her private chamber as Mira stitched her arm.
“You should’ve died,” Mira said bluntly.
“Thanks for the confidence,” Seraphina replied dryly.
“You did something,” Mira added. “That fire… wasn’t just your Crescent Blade.”
“I don’t know what it was,” she said softly. “But it’s part of me now.”
Darian entered moments later, eyes locked on her bandaged arm.
“You should’ve let me come down.”
“I couldn’t,” she said. “This was mine to prove.”
He sat beside her, brushing her hair back. “And now what?”
“Now,” she said, “comes the final rite. The Trial of Wisdom.”
She turned to him, eyes intense. “And Alaric will try to kill me before then.”
A Glimpse of Romance
That night, Darian didn’t leave her side.
He laid beside her, their legs tangled under the furs. Her back pressed to his chest. His arms wrapped tightly around her middle.
“I felt you,” he murmured against her neck. “When you caught fire. It was like our bond burned brighter.”
She turned in his arms. “Maybe it did.”
He kissed her, slow and deep, and for a while, they didn’t speak—only touched. Only moved together like waves under moonlight.
There was no urgency now.
Just devotion.
When they finally stilled, she whispered, “If I fall—”
“You won’t,” he cut in.
“But if I do…”
“I’ll carry your fire,” he said. “Until the end.”